Is a good G&T enough to bring me back to a restaurant? A good one perhaps not, but one of Blixen’s is an entirely different story. Laced with homemade grapefruit and coriander cordial with a whopping chunk of fresh neon grapefruit and served over an avalanche of ice, this is a serious drink packed with character and addictive persuasion, I feel that this could have the potential to descend London’s drinking populous into a scene from Hogarth’s Gin Lane. But sadly people go to restaurants for more than just gin these days…

Stylistically there is a lot going at Blixen, and there is something distinctly colonial about it, with wicker chairs, tan wooden panelling and an abundance of ceiling fans, all very British Empire circa 1920. Our table was out in the courtyard, which gladly felt a million miles away from Spitalfields Market, and sported more shrubbery than an African plantation. A penny starts to drop and given the decor I deduce that Blixen could well refer to Karen Blixen and her famous memoir ‘Out of Africa’…

The staff, who were by and large all rather lovely bore a stark contrast to my first experience of Blixen over 6 months ago when a member of the team sat down at my table to reel of the specials, it certainly put me off my stride and made me question what was in my gin and tonic. Thankfully this over familiarity has been stripped back and Blixen staff 2.0 are much more in keeping with what you would expect. Our Aussie server displayed the right amount of interest in us, but not too much that we became bored of her, she looked about 12 years old but you can hardly hold that against her.

On to the menu, and there were no colonial surprises lurking within the descriptions, however the dishes sounded peculiar and contained a selection of ingredients and flavours that you will recognise but perhaps not necessarily ever together. Beef and anchovies? Frogs legs and jamon? Sea bream and hazelnuts? Lamb and pistachio? It all sounds rather experimental. The starters appealed far more so we opted for a few of these and one main course to share.

Beetroot hummus with crispy lavosh (£3.50) was disappointing and after tasting this i’m confident the ever faithful beetroot was never meant to meet the chickpea in circumstances such as these. The beef carpaccio with anchovy, parmesan and crispy shallots (£8.00) was similarly disappointing, and believe it or not it would have benefitted with the omission of the fishy aftertaste, it was Caesar salad meets carpaccio and contained a bit too much surf with my turf. Our sea bass ceviche hadn’t quite got the right citrus balance however wasn’t unpalatable. The squid and chorizo stew (£8.00) most definitely made up for the shortcomings of it’s forerunners – deliciously tender squid rings with a rich deep paprika infused oil, all soaked up with butter beans and chickpeas – a real trophy dish.

Sea bream with white beans, broccoli and hazelnuts (£13.00) was proficient enough and the fish was fresh and well seasoned. Presentation was way off the mark and looked like it was ‘bring your toddler to work’ day in the kitchen as it was seemingly plated up by a three year old.

Pistachio ice cream with lemon shortbread (£6.00) for dessert was pleasant enough, and reminded me of an Indian kulfi, could this be the nod towards the colonial cooking of yesteryear that I was searching for?

A tray of petit fours and an espresso martini each finished off the evening – though it was staggering to believe that our G&T had been made by the same hands that sent out this under shaken and over sweetened imposter…such a shame.

For the price I think Blixen is a hit, and you’ll be hard pushed to get this quality for the same money in a mile radius. Go for the G&T and the squid…just make sure they don’t put it in the same glass.

It has been a long time since I have been so singularly bowled over by a restaurant or a pork chop (more on that later). The last time I experienced such synergy within an establishment was when Barrafina opened its doors on Frith Street over seven years ago, now decorated with a coveted michelin star I feel a similar trajectory could be in store for Rotorino on Kingsland Road.

Over the past few weeks I have been three times, and each time have fallen a little bit more in love with the place. Obviously there are a few tweaks that could be made – the draught from the door for a start, but the place exudes such charm that these faults are quickly overlooked.

On my most recent visit it was a nightmare making the booking. The online server kept crashing, and then after ten attempts to call I finally spoke to someone. Here we go I thought, the wheels have started to come off. Wrong – the hostess on the phone quickly allayed my frustration, apologised and slotted us in.

We were running fifteen minutes late and I feared a stern reproach from the hostess due to our tardiness, however we were greeted with a welcome as warm as the sun, and directed towards our table – away from the door as requested.

The restaurant is stylishly decked out with rich turquoise panels, and terracotta tiles, all very trendy med, with booth seating clad in emerald and soft brown leather. It’s good looks clearly haven’t gone unnoticed either, with it being used as a location in Channel 4’s latest sitcom ‘Catastrophe’.

Our waitress was over within thirty seconds to present us with our menus and instant disappointment overwhelmed me when I saw the pork chop wasn’t on the menu. Just as I was about the grab my coat and leave I noticed it had been relegated to the specials board.

With our orders placed we got cracking with some wine, and opted for a bottle of Negromaro from Puglia in Southern Italy, which was more ruby red than Dorothy’s slippers and smoother than James Dean and a snip at just twenty quid. The rest of the list is concise with all price points catered for with a good range available by the glass. It also makes such a difference that they store the wine in a temperature controlled cabinet, so it can be consumed at it’s optimum.

The first wave of dishes arrived within a few minutes and we began the evenings culinary journey with the calamari (£9.50) which was moreishly salty with a satisfying almost Southern-Fried style crunch to the coating, even better after we added the obligatory squidge of lemon. The coppa and pickles (£5.00) was also upon us which is a delicious cured pork neck that melts in your mouth, almost like those weird Orbit ‘fresh strips’ that dissolved on your tongue, the pickled beetroot accompanying the coppa offered a welcome hit of vinegar to counter the fat.

Then on to the pork chop (£15.00). It really was the most delicious slab of meat I can recall eating for a long time. I had to resist grabbing it in my hands and giving it the Henry VIII treatment. Instead we used the conventional method of knife and fork whilst making noises that usually accompany activities occurring between the sheets. It was served with gremolata which added a sharp citrusy element whilst also providing a nice mellow garlic flavour to the meat.

We also ordered the burrida (£20.00) which was our least favourite dish. I felt it was slightly overcooked and the fish had lost it’s texture and become a bit flaccid. Previously I had the cod as my seafood main which was much more successful and had a wonderfully charred skin holding the fish together, however this wasn’t on the menu on this particular evening, which I took as a positive as it demonstrates an ethical approach to sustainable sourcing of their fish.

On to dessert. I do find it the most ridiculous statement when people say about food that it is ‘better than sex,’ my first reaction is always to think that they clearly aren’t doing it right. That is until I tasted Rotorino’s chocolate cake (£6.00) it was spongey, silky, rich and milky with crunchy hits of honeycomb that reminded me of a cadbury’s crunchie, it was also rippled with pistachios, each bite offered something a little bit more than the previous. Singularly the best dessert I have ever tasted.

Coffee was a bit bizarre, as it was served in a little ramekin that wasn’t designed for the purpose of housing coffee, which means you end up getting foam in all the wrong places.

Consistency is perhaps one of the most difficult facets for a restaurant or bar to achieve. They may launch with a fanfare and a string of great reviews but keeping the quality going is the challenge. A challenge that this restaurant has risen to and surpassed. They are onto to something very special here, and local competitors in and around East London should take note, everything about the place is so well done that it all seems effortless. I shall be returning for my fourth pork chop very soon.

From the brains behind Hackney Road’s hippest wine bar Sager & Wilde comes the latest in a swathe of new establishments cropping up in East London. Billed as a ‘Californian wine bar and kitchen’ I felt the depths of winter the most appropriate time to indulge in some sunny SoCal delights.

During the Summer I did spend a few weeks traveling through California with a slight sojourn into the Nevada desert, and the food and drink was a mixed bag. The week spent in the desert eating beef jerky and and drinking neat gin doesn’t count, and besides a few incredible meals in LA it was all rather unremarkable.

So being fully aware of California’s culinary potential I was intrigued to see what Mission had to offer and was hoping to be transported to a hot spot in Silverlake as opposed to a dead end in Venice Beach.

A huge palm tree greeted us on arrival, which was a warming sight as the connotations of this tropical specimen were rather welcome on a Baltic Winters evening. Sadly the theme of cold was going to be a recurring motif during our time spent here, beginning with our table placed directly next to the door which ensured that neither us or the food remained at a temperature akin to California.

Being a rabble of six friends who hadn’t seen each other for a while, high on our agenda was a raucous catch up, however this wonderful human interaction was clearly not what our rather cold server had in mind for our evening. Getting the order in was her only priority, which was proving difficult as menus were only sparingly provided. Eventually we submitted our orders, which did cheer her up – marginally.

To start I had the ox cheek parpadelle (£12.00) which was dry and bland. I had to request parmesan cheese to liven it up which took the waitress by surprise, and thus took an age to arrive. This style of dish is a default choice for me, and I have ordered it twice memorably. Once in a restaurant in LA called Osteria Mozza (osteriamozza.com) and another on home turf in a cicchetti style eatery named TOZI (tozirestaurant.co.uk) both of which offered a rich and velvety ragu which left you threatening the server with a blunt spoon if they approached too early to remove the plate. On this occasion however it was gladly returned.

On to the main event, and I was very pleased with my duck (£15.50). It was rudely pink, and cooked to perfection, plump and juicy with just the right amount of caramelisation of the fatty layer encasing the meat. It was however served in what I can only describe as a cereal bowl.

Sadly further down our table there was trouble brewing with the beef chop (£60.00 for 2 people). The main issue being it was overcooked. Naturally I offered my input and suggested it could be an aged meat which would suggest why it wasn’t ‘pink’ as requested, but after masticating with a piece for longer than comfortable I also joined the school of thought that it had been basking under the grill for far too long.

By way of apology for the over done steak the management offered the whole table an apple crumble to share. A smart move, as correcting a cocked up steak is one of the biggest challenges in a restaurant, due to cooking and resting time – especially a £60 cut. The gesture certainly redeemed some of the service failings throughout the night.

As you would imagine wine is high on the agenda here, which is what piqued my disappointment above anything else. You simply can not get a decent bottle of wine here for anything below £32. The ‘Mission House White’ (£26.50) was vile, acidic tart and unpalatable. The Pecorino Tiberio (£32.50) was better, but still extremely thin. We eventually bought a few bottles of the Foxglove Zinfandel (£41.50) which was bold and beautiful, but I still had a gripe with the grape, as it was freezing cold. I questioned our waitress and she informed me it had come from the cellar, as if this was supposed to fix the fact it was served sub-zero. If you are charging over the odds for your wine why don’t you show it some love, and keep it in a temperature regulated area like other restaurants charging the same would do?

In terms of wine pricing the same can be said of their original venue Sager & Wilde, as the last time I went I remember stumbling out £80 lighter after splitting a couple of bottles of red. However the cost felt justifiable as the service was excellent, the glassware reeked of expense and it’s a cosy venue. They need to look to what made them successful in their first venture and emulate in Mission where possible.

My lasting impression of Mission will unfortunately be the price. There has been a trend lately of narcissistic foodies launching restaurants in East London and strapping on a Mayfair price tag. Whereas I wouldn’t necessarily put Mission in this category they need to seriously consider what value they are actually offering their customers, as there was far too much wrong with it to justify the cost.

I had already recommended this restaurant to a friend prior to eating at it myself, so sure was I that it would be utterly exquisite. Thankfully my friend had a wonderful experience, but my meal didn’t quite hit the mark.

This particular meal was due to be a long leisurely lunch with one of the many fabulous women in my life, my Mother. Choosing venues for these occasions requires a great deal of thought, tenacity and patience. Expectation levels are usually soaring, so venue choice is key, and having been cast aside for a reservation at Chiltern Firehouse, rebuffed from Rogan’s new joint at Claridges I joined the waiting list for a table at Gauthier. Our time spent on the waitlist was luckily rather brief, so I was able to call off the hunt for a prized table for two and it was all systems go for a leisurely luncheon in one of my favourite parts of London.

The restaurant itself is located within a terraced house on Romilly Street, which makes the arrival experience wonderfully quaint as you approach the huge black door and wait for permission to enter. It has a real air of exclusivity which imparted in the correct manner receives a big thumbs up from us both.

Being shown to our table our feelings began to alter. The dining room itself was lacking. There was no panache and it was all quite bland. As my feet wandered over the heavy piled carpet I didn’t feel like I was in a restaurant. It had a feeling of a home where people had just moved in and hadn’t got round to unpacking or decorating.

Once we were rooted in our armchairs our waiter came over with the menus – of which there are numerous. He diligently went through all of the varying options that were available to us, and I have never come across so much choice or ways to package up and supplement your meal choice, it was quite baffling and I needed some libation to make sense of it all.

Eventually after much deliberation, a cold glass of bubbles and two freshly baked brioche rolls our orders were in, so we were able to resume our judgemental gazes towards the decoration – or lack of. It was also unusual that they had the blinds closed in the middle of the day, so whilst we sat on the second floor of this terraced house in the middle of the day it felt like a bat cave with a shag pile carpet.

After a few brief moments we were presented with a couple of pre-starters. Firstly a pumpkin velouté, which had sadly become split and resembled the texture of baby spew which was doused in a disproportionate amount of mushroom sauce, and secondly some parmesan crisps which were extremely flavoursome and packed a great nutty punch of fromage.

To start with we had a Crustacean Medley swimming with slivers of squid. Now I may be wrong but the last time I checked squid or octopus wasn’t part of the crustacean family. The dish itself was actually delicious with an oceanic lobster bisque, but tentacles were not what we were expecting, I wasn’t about to split hairs with the staff about differences between molluscs or crustaceans so swiftly got over it.

Main courses followed shortly after, and this was the most disappointing part of the lunch. I ordered pheasant, and it was just bad. Over cooked, under seasoned sinewy meat that felt as though I was chewing on Paula Radcliffe’s left calf muscle.

There was an absence of appropriate accompaniments with this dish and the Savoy cabbage that was supposedly gracing my plate was so negligible in size that it may as well have been omitted. Chef patron Gauthier is billed as being a ‘vegetable magician’, well he was certainly very competent as he had made ours completely disappear. Clearly the rabbit he had in his hat had been busy.

Rounding off proceedings we had some coffee and petit fours, which is worth mentioning purely down to the crockery that was used. It was beautiful, unique little vessels with bold colours and individual styling. Perhaps an indication of where they ought to draw inspiration for the decor?

I think you will likely find more atmosphere on the moon than in Gauthier. Clientele on this particular Tuesday afternoon was predominantly city boys bragging about how many times they ‘bang their mistress’, displaying language as colourful as the coffee cups. Perhaps the weekend would see a more representative cross-section of those of us spending our own hard-earned pennies as opposed to the expense accounts.

There were some great nuances running throughout the lunch such as the arrival experience, the complimentary mineral water, the stylish crockery and the comfort of the dining room. There has clearly been a lot of thought placed on this restaurant, just not in the areas I consider most important – like the food.

I have decided to save the best for last and that is the service. It was impressive. The boys had the correct amount of rapport and charm, and timed the whole experience with Swiss watch precision. Service recovery was also dealt with swiftly and sans drama – you didn’t think we were going to pay for the pheasant did you?